Explore "Spectres" by Ella Wheeler Wilcox on Textopian. Read with annotations and highlights.
How terrible these nights are when alone / With our scarred hearts, we sit in solitude, / And some old sorrow, to the world unknown, / Does suddenly with silent steps intrude.
After the guests departed, and the light / Burned dimly in my room, there came to me, / As noiselessly as shadows of the night, / The spectre of a woe that used to be.